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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275049">A Gift &amp; A Song</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlenolacroix/pseuds/irlenolacroix'>irlenolacroix</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Smile For Me (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gift Giving, Hurt/Comfort, Lullabies, M/M, boris has a very bad day and kamal is here to help with a gift and a song, request</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlenolacroix/pseuds/irlenolacroix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Babe?”</p><p>Boris shifted a little in bed. His vision was blurry and it stung to open his eyes too much. What was that? Was he crying?</p><p>“Honey, are you here? I’m home. Back from Wallus’s.”</p><p>Boris wasn’t sure if he was here. How would he answer that if he could speak?</p><p>“You upstairs?” Footsteps, then a gentle knock on the door. “I’m coming in, okay? I’ll leave you alone if you want, I just want to check on you.”</p><p>Boris couldn’t protest. He didn’t want to protest. He didn’t want to be alone. It had been so long since he’d felt so tiny like this, so sick, so terrified.</p><p>Fuck, he couldn’t stop crying.</p><p>***</p><p>Requested from Tumblr.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kamal Bora/Dr. Boris Habit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Gift &amp; A Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Babe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris shifted a little in bed. His vision was blurry and it stung to open his eyes too much. What was that? Was he crying?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey, are you here? I’m home. Back from Wallus’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris wasn’t sure if he was here. How would he answer that if he could speak?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You upstairs?” Footsteps, then a gentle knock on the door. “I’m coming in, okay? I’ll leave you alone if you want, I just want to check on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris couldn’t protest. He didn’t want to protest. He didn’t want to be alone. It had been so long since he’d felt so tiny like this, so sick, so terrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he couldn’t stop crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened with a little squeak of the hinges and within seconds Kamal was sitting on the bed beside Boris. “Hey.” His voice was soft, not quite a whisper, but something close to it. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris swallowed through a shaky sob. He wasn’t sure if he could talk just yet, at least not in full sentences. He managed to croak a few words out, though, pushing them through lips so dry he swore they might crumble with too much vocalization. “Bad day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamal hummed softly. Boris felt him shift, but something stopped, hovering. “Can I touch you? Pet your hair, give you a hug?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris nodded. He’d like a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamal lay down beside him, holding him gently from behind. One hand made its way to tangle gently in Boris’s hair, which was far messier and rattier than usual, seeing as it hadn’t been combed all day. Kamal didn’t seem to mind, though. He didn’t comment on it. His other arm wrapped as far around Boris’s torso as it would go, pulling him in as close as he could and just laying there, quietly, holding him, petting him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris closed his eyes. A few tears clung to his eyelashes. He tried to think about Kamal, about the feeling of Kamal’s touch and the gentleness of Kamal’s whisper. There was no violence there, no anger, no shame. There were no traces of Boris’s nightmares in Kamal’s arms, in his shape or his voice. So the touch provided some comfort, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain was caused partially by memories of his father, partially by memories of the Habitat, partially by the simple well of depression that seemed far too slippery to attempt to scrabble out of today. Sometimes he could grip the stone walls and pull himself out with only a bit of grunting, but today everything was slicked over with algae and water and there didn’t appear to be a rope descending anytime soon. Kamal helped, definitely, but… still. He’d been hearing screams all day. Had it been all day? What time even was it? Had he gotten out of bed at all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time is it…?” Boris managed to whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm…” Kamal leaned up, presumably to check his watch, before settling back down. “Seven-thirty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris groaned softly. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> been here all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamal remained still, then kissed the back of Boris’s head. “Well, we can work on getting you out of bed in a few minutes, when you feel up to it, yeah?” he said. “I’ll make dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Boris said quickly. “Stay with me first. Don’t… Don’t want to be alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, big guy.” Another little kiss. “Of course. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long while there was silence. It was comfortable. Wasn’t too loud, not like the silence at the dinner table when Boris had just popped his shoulder back into place nor the silence in the apartment above the Habitat, silence only broken by Martha’s everlasting hum. Just… silence. For a moment his brain was silent too. That always seemed to happen in Kamal’s presence, and it was a welcome change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you something today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris opened his eyes. He turned over to face Kamal, slowly laying an arm over him to hug him close. “You didn’t have to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was going to be for your birthday. Was savin’ it, but… I want to give it to you now.” Kamal leaned in to kiss Boris’s forehead, then wiggled out of his arms and got off the bed. He headed across the room and opened his messenger bag. Boris hadn’t even noticed him bringing it upstairs. Kamal rummaged around for a while, then turned, producing something from the bag, a lump of dark cloth. “Remember how I borrowed one of your shirts a while back, the black button-up with the short sleeves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris nodded slightly. “I told you it wouldn’t fit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean, it doesn’t, you were right. I’m too tiny.” Kamal chuckled softly, then came back to the bed to sit beside Boris. He began unfolding the cloth. “That isn’t why I asked for it, though. Um… I took it to Wallus. He’s been practicing embroidery since the Habitat closed up, says it’s a new hobby of his. I asked if he’d help me make a birthday present for you, and he said yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris sat up all the way just as Kamal handed him the unfolded shirt. It was his black button-up, the one he’d always complained about being a bit boring, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were flowers embroidered all over it. Mostly lilies, but some others as well. Roses, pansies, peonies, daisies. The shirt had become a miniature garden. No two flowers were too close together, none of the colors clashed too badly. The thread was tight yet vibrant and managed not to cinch the fabric. It was clear that a lot of work and time had been poured into it. The shirt itself, however, was becoming less clear, because Boris was crying yet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it,” he whispered through tears. “Oh my God, Kamal, I love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” Kamal said quietly. He leaned up against Boris, stretching to kiss him on the cheek. “I came up with the design, Wallus did all the embroidery. Don’t worry, I paid him for it. He said he really enjoyed working on it, said it was good practice.” He looked up at his boyfriend, giving him a little hug around the waist. “I’m so glad you like it. Happy birthday, even if we are a few days early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do like it.” Boris sniffed, trying to hold back a sob. He lay the shirt down only to turn and hug Kamal as close as he could, squeezing him and pressing his face into his hair. He’d missed the feeling of Kamal’s hair pressed against his face. “Thank you. I love you so much, thank you. Tell Wallus thank you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Kamal whispered against Boris’s chest. “I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They remained like that for a long while. Boris had needed a hug like this. Kamal hugged him every day, but this hug was more than a casual display of affection. Boris needed a fierce hug, a hug that was almost human itself in its devotion. He wasn’t going to be alone again. He wasn’t going to have to fend for himself again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamal was here. He was safe. The rope had come down, and he was grabbing it. He was pulling himself out of the well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I need to take a shower,” Boris muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamal breathed a small laugh. “That’s probably a good idea.” He pulled back from the hug just to look up at Boris and caress his face with one hand. “You want me to come with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris leaned into the hand on his face, turning his head and kissing Kamal’s palm. “I can do it myself, it’s okay. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm… Okay,” Kamal said, accepting the hand kiss and only melting a little. “I’ll start on dinner, then.” He paused, tilting his head when Boris didn’t get up to move. “Something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Will you sing to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamal blinked. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That song.” Boris rocked back and forth a little, averting his gaze. “I don’t remember the name, but you said you liked it when you were a kid. You said your parents used to sing it to you when you had a bad day.” He shyly flapped his hands a few times. “Can I hear it? So I can hum it to myself in the shower and feel safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamal’s shoulders lowered a little with relaxation. “Yeah, babe,” he murmured. He dropped his hand from Boris’s face, but scooted close so he was leaning against Boris’s chest. “Sorry, haven’t warmed up my voice or anything.” He laughed softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris wrapped his arms around Kamal, holding him close, kissing the top of his head. “Your voice is lovely anyways,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kamal snuggled his cheek into Boris’s chest. “I love you,” he said once more. He then began to sing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a simple song, a lullaby. Kamal made it special, though. Even though Kamal’s voice definitely wasn’t perfect, Boris could tell how much love there was in every note. He closed his eyes and rode with the melody, with Kamal’s words, bumping on every little off-key misstep and every perfectly pitched word. He swayed a little, holding Kamal closer and kissing the top of his head again as he sang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he’d had lullabies as a boy. But he had them now, with Kamal. Safe songs, pretty decorations of time and space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris resolved to sing to Kamal next time, and he committed every word and scale and note to memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the song was over, Kamal looked up at Boris, turning in his arms to face him. “Feel better, Bor?” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boris’s only answer was to lean in and kiss him. He hoped that would suffice.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was an anonymous tumblr request! i liked writing this one a lot, thank you to the person who requested it! the request was "Could I possibly get some habismal hurt/comfort where Habit is the one hurting and Kamal comforts him by giving him a gift and then singing a calming song that his parents used to sing?"</p><p>my tumblr is winemomparker if you want to check out my request guidelines or just want to chat! thank you for reading, comments and kudos are much appreciated! have a great day &lt;3!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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